it behind her, she dropped the envelope and the newspaper from under her arm.
"You were very quick," he complimented her.
"I came as soon as I could," said Ellen, and her fright, before facing him, was fled. He looked sick and slack. He was recently shaved, recently dressed, but the trimness of his toilet only accentuated his debility.
"Glad to hear from me?" he asked her.
"Yes," said Ellen.
"You were, eh?" He put his hands on her shoulders, pulling off her coat; he put his hands on her arms and slipped up to her shoulders, grasping her and swaying her slightly. "Did you ever call me before I went away?"
"No."
"Why didn't you?"
Ellen wanted to thrust off his hands but she was not afraid of him. "I didn't," she replied.
"Why?" he persisted, holding her, tightening and relaxing the pressure of his fingers. "You knew I wanted you to."
Ellen permitted his grasp and gazed at him. "You're the only one I called; you're the only one I gave a damn to see, when I landed," he admitted to her, his eyes roving up and down her body.
By her body, she knew, she attracted him, but if it were only that, he would never have sought her so. It was what inhabited her body—it was herself, her soul and spirit which had been keeping him off and defying him, which allured him and which to-day especially tempted him. He had set himself to break the inhabitant of her
